The Three Times Chris Thomas Tried to be Sexy, and the One Time He Was
by pastries and turtlenecks
Summary: All Chris wanted to do was make sure James knew how much he loved him.


It was an average Tuesday evening in Chris and James's apartment. Chris was sprawled across the couch, presently not eating a Poptart (which meant he was probably silently debating whether or not getting up and walking to the kitchen would be worth the effort), while James sat at one end, his boyfriend's head in his lap. He knew he had to leave for work soon – he usually had an extra-long shift on Tuesday nights so that he could justify taking off every Wednesday – but he wasn't sure Chris would move and allow him to get up.

He was about to open his mouth and ask permission to leave, but Chris beat him to the chase. "Doesn't your shift start soon?" he asked innocently.

"Yeah, why, are you that desperate to get rid of me?" James countered with a smirk.

Chris gave him a look through his bangs. "Duh. Actually, I needed to talk to you about something, but I didn't want you to leave halfway through the conversation. But since you're about to head out, I'll just leave it for later." To make his point, Chris sat up, returning James's lap to him and allowing him to move freely.

James's mouth gaped open for a moment. "Seriously? Chris, I have an eight hour shift, I won't be home until after two in the morning. You thought it was a good idea to say 'We need to talk' and then just let me stew on that thought for the rest of the night?"

Chris smiled and rolled his eyes, ushering James towards the door. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble, just go to work and get lots of tips and we'll talk about it when you get home."

James reluctantly gave in and grabbed his jacket from the coat rack, reaching for the doorknob. "Alright, I trust you. I'll see you tonight," he said, leaning down just a bit to kiss Chris goodbye.

"See you tonight!" Chris said with a smile. "And don't worry; it'll be worth the wait!"

* * *

Despite his reassurances, James worried about Chris's cryptic statement his entire shift. His head may as well have not come to work with the rest of his body that night, but luckily Tuesday nights were never that busy, so he didn't have to opportunity to mess up _too_ many drinks.

He tried to reenter their apartment as quietly as possible in case Chris had fallen asleep waiting for him, but as soon as he rounded the corner into the hallway leading towards their bedroom, he was overwhelmed with a smell he imagined could only be produced if a florist's shop caught on fire and was doused with perfume. He gagged a bit and covered his nose with his hand. The smell got thicker as he got closer to their door, which was only open a crack.

The floorboard creaked slightly as he stepped on it, and he heard someone curse under his breath and run across the room behind the door. Soft, "sexy" music began to play, and in the dim lighting, he barely made out a person diving onto the bed and trying to land in a sensual pose.

James finally gave in and opened the door. Behind it, Chris lay across the bed, a long-stemmed rose in his mouth, surrounded by rose petals littering the bed sheets. His lips were curled into a slight smirk and his eyes were half-lidded, giving their best "come hither" look. He was wearing only a rather tight pair of black briefs, which is where James's eyes instantly landed.

James stood in stunned silence for a moment before setting his house keys down on the dresser and clearing his throat. "Chris?" he began slowly. "What did you want to talk –"

"Shhh," Chris cut him off, gently removing the rose from his lips. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, knocking a few rose petals off in the process, and slowly walked towards James. He gripped the edges of his jacket and leaned in close to whisper, "It's Wednesday."

James couldn't tell if it was arousal or the still-present stench of too much rose in one room, but his mind was going a bit foggy. "D-don't try to distract me with sex until you tell me what you wanted to talk about," he said, gulping as Chris began kissing down his jaw.

Shrugging, Chris slipped James's jacket over his shoulders and tossed it to the ground. "I was just worried that Wednesdays were losing their 'zing,' you know? Like we were just going through the _motions_." He pressed their hips together on the last word. "So I wanted to pump up the sex appeal. Y'know, romance my man a little bit."

"I like it," James said, smirking slightly. Satisfied with his reaction, Chris leaned up and finally pressed their lips together, tugging slightly at James's shirt to lead him back to the bed.

James was down to a similar state of near-nudity in no time; undressing each other was a process they were experts at by now. He laid Chris down on the petal-covered pillow, his own body hovering over the thinner, paler one, and began leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, his chest, his stomach, until –

Chris sneezed. He barely covered his mouth and nose in time for a second, and then a third, before James's head popped up. Considering the fact that only a moment before, the waistband of Chris's underwear was between his teeth, he was obviously quite concerned.

"You alright?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

Chris nodded, but another sneeze erupted as his head bobbed, betraying his answer. "I'm –" he gave a painful sounding sniffle, "- fine. Never better," he got out with a forced, though his voice was already thick with congestion.

James wasn't convinced. "You're sure you're not sick?" he asked.

Chris huffed. "You think I somehow got sick in the time it took for you to get from the doorway to the bed? Just get on with it," he reached down to lace his fingers through James's hair and usher him back to what he was doing, but both hands retreated quickly back to his face to cover another sneeze.

Despite his thudding pulse, James wasn't about to take any dumb excuses. "Chris, are these..." he scooped up a handful of rose petals from the sheets. "_Real_ petals? Like, from _real_ roses?"

"Of course, you think I would skimp out on my boyfriend?"

He wanted to be flattered, but James was more concerned with the current issue. "So what you're telling me is you bought a bunch of roses, and then individually plucked each petal off and scattered them all over the bed?"

Chris nodded. "I even have a few thorn nicks to prove it. Why, don't you like it?" he asked.

"Of course I like it," James replied gently. "But Chris, didn't it cross your mind that you're allergic to pollen?"

Chris scoffed. "It's not like I'm rolling in a field of daisies in the middle of April or anything. I'll be fine, just get back to the ravishing." Yet another sneeze punctuated the sentence, and James could see his boyfriend's eyes getting red and watery. He sighed at the look he was giving him. "I'll just take a Benadryl or something and I'll be fine."

"Babe, those knock you out for like, twelve hours," James reminded. "Here, I'll get it for you; we can just do this later. Don't worry about it," he said, swinging his legs off the bed and retreating towards the bathroom.

Groaning, Chris scooped up a handful of rose petals and dumped them in the wastebasket next to the bedside table. "So much for pumping up the sex appeal," he muttered, wiping his nose.

* * *

The following Wednesday, Chris took every precaution to ensure he wouldn't end up the snotty mess he was the previous week. He had slept until two in the afternoon like James had warned he would, and had to stay out of their room while James disposed of the roses and aired out the area. Needless to say, it was one of their less eventful Wednesdays.

But Christopher Thomas was a stubborn man if anything. This time, there would be no outside allergens to detract from their activities. Chris felt dreadful for wasting half of their Wednesday with his allergy attack, and felt even worse for letting James down. He'd wanted so much to really make James feel loved, and all it got him was a wastebasket full of used tissues. So the next week would be just him and James, nothing separating them.

James's Tuesday night shift had been picked up by a coworker to make up for the shifts James would be covering for her when she went on vacation that weekend, so James spent the night at home with Chris. They'd watched a movie, and actually paid attention to it, rather than opting to spend the entire two hours making out like a pair of teenagers. There would be plenty of time for that the next day.

Not willing to waste any time, Chris was inconspicuously eyeing the clock on the cable box for most of the film. The moment it struck midnight, he practically leapt from his comfortable nuzzle in James's side to straddling his lap, their lips locked together before James had time to react.

James was surprised at Chris's gentleness. He had assumed the smaller man would want to reaffirm his manhood, or something, but he was actually very tender. His hands found their way to James's cheeks, gently stroking them with his thumbs. Their lips and tongues glided together in familiarity and comfort.

Chris broke the kiss, breathless after just a few moments. His eyes were already dark with lust and affection. "Come on," he said, lacing their fingers together and getting to his feet.

James followed him back to the bedroom. As soon as the door was shut, Chris went to work pulling James's shirt over his head, barely making it into the hamper as he tossed it across the dark room.

"I wanted to apologize for ruining last week," Chris breathed into James's neck.

"You didn't ruin it," James reassured, but Chris was insistent.

"I did, and I want to make it up to you. Lie on your stomach." James wasn't about to argue, so he did as he was told.

Once he was comfortable (though he'd be much more comfortable without any pants on), Chris straddled his thighs and rested his hands on James's back. His boyfriend tensed slightly at the touch, so Chris quickly went to work massaging the firm muscles.

"Chris?" James asked into the pillow after only a few seconds.

"Mmhmm?"

"Your fingers are, um, kind of cold. Actually, really cold," he said as politely as he could.

"Shit," Chris muttered, curling and uncurling his fingers in an attempt to restore some circulation. "Sorry." He tried breathing on them to quicken the process before returning them to James's back. "Better?"

They were still a little chilly, but James didn't want to wound Chris's pride any more than he likely already had, so he let him continue. "Better," he agreed.

Chris tentatively let his fingers glide along James's back, applying more pressure wherever he felt there was tension. Due to their positions, he couldn't quite see James's face to gauge reactions, and had to rely solely on sound. Was it just him, or was that last noise less of an "ahhh" and more of an "errr?"

"Something wrong?" Chris asked slowly, his hands working their way up to James's shoulders.

James winced as Chris started awkwardly kneading the tendons there. "Chris, I'm going to be blunt, do you know anything about giving massages?"

"Sure I do! I mean, it can't be that hard, can it? Why, am I doing it… wrong?"

"It's just," James began, trying to turn his head enough to see Chris, which only caused him to wince more, "something feels… A little weird, now."

Chris groaned and let his head drop. "Don't tell me I've fucked up your back."

"O-of course not!" James tried to cover. "Just… Try to be a little gentler, maybe?"

Still unsure, Chris went back to work. He worked his way down to James's lower back, massaging around the base of his spine, trying to find that happy medium of pressure where it wasn't too much nor too little. It wasn't long before something went "pop," Chris froze, and James groaned – this time, there was no debate as to whether it was out of pleasure, or pain.

After a moment, Chris dared to speak: "James…? Are you okay?"

There was another moment of tense silence before James, voice still gentle and reassuring (though a bit strained), replied, "I think maybe we should call it a night."

"What? Why?"

"Well, I'm not sure I can move, is all."

Thus went by another uneventful Wednesday.

* * *

Chris felt absolutely horrible when Wednesday rolled by the next week. All he'd wanted to do was make his boyfriend happy, and show him how much he loved him, yet two weeks in a row he'd managed to screw everything up. It wasn't even that they had to go without sex because of him – they certainly didn't strictly limit it to Wednesdays, after all – it just still lacked that "special something" he insisted was missing. And he was just so frustrated with himself for being unable to do something special for James.

That third week, he decided, would be where everything changed. He kept ruining everything because he kept overthinking everything. He just needed to get out of his head and let happen what was going to happen. And he knew exactly how he was going to do that.

James made it home by midnight that Tuesday night, and wouldn't admit it, but he was kind of nervous to return home and see what Chris had cooked up for the two of them that night. He quickly spotted Chris lying on the couch when he entered the apartment, and silently hoped he was asleep and couldn't try to execute another one of his plans.

The blond jumped slightly when James entered, quickly followed by a wide, lopsided grin. "I was waiting for yoooou," he said, his tone a bit friendlier than James would have expected. "What took you so loooong?" he whined.

"I'm actually home early," James said slowly, raising an eyebrow. "Are you okay?" he asked, approaching the couch.

Chris got to his feet and nearly fell into James's arms. "I'm great! Feeling good! Ready for a long night with my boyfriend's…" he trailed off and broke into a fit of giggles, as if the word he'd thought of was too dirty to say out loud.

James held him by the shoulders. He couldn't tell if the smell of alcohol was coming from his own clothes, or Chris's breath. "Chris, are you drunk?"

"Naaaah, I'm not _drunk_," Chris clarified. "I just took a little field trip through the liquor cabinet to get myself all loosed up and ready for tonight, ya know? Tried 'ta make myself some fancy drink like you make but I just ended up settlin' for some shots, s'quicker that way."

"Shots?" James repeated. "Of what? And how many?" He felt like Chris's mother rather than his boyfriend.

Chris shrugged and gave his best 'get-off-my-back' look. "Whatever was in the front of the cabinet? Didn't taste very good. I think I took, what," he spent a few seconds staring at his fingers, like they would sprout mouths and tell him the answer, "three or four? That's not a lot, right?"

James made a face. "Well, that's not a _lot_, for someone a little bigger, but for a five-foot-five, one-twenty lightweight like you, that's more than enough to do you in. You didn't take them all at once, did you? And did you eat beforehand?"

Rolling his eyes, Chris wrapped his arms around James's neck. "I know what I can handle, babe. Now get off my back, unless you wanna start with that position, in which case…" He began trying to kiss James, but ended up awkwardly puckering his lips and blindly stabbing them forward, missing his boyfriend entirely.

"Sorry, Chris. Try again in the morning if you're not too hungover," James replied, shaking his head.

"Come oooooon, Jamesie," Chris whined, nuzzling into James's neck. "I thought this would help me 'ta not fuck up our fun this time."

He almost felt bad for him for a moment, but James was a bartender and knew it was his responsibility to cut someone off if they'd had too much. And he certainly wasn't about to take advantage of a drunk man, whether they were dating or not. "I appreciate the effort, but you're much more fun when you're sober. We'll try again tomorrow."

Chris was about to protest, but James slipped out of his arms and picked him up before he could get a word out. He carried the feebly struggling man back to their bedroom, tucked him under the covers, and kissed him on the forehead just as he nodded off, muttering about how James was "missing out on one damn fine piece of man meat."

* * *

Coming home from work that following Tuesday night, James wouldn't even deny it, he was a little nervous for what he would find. When Chris had woken up that Wednesday morning, he'd practically refused to talk to James beyond what was necessary, probably out of shame and embarrassment. He'd just fixed himself a cup of black coffee (which James knew he hated, Chris had too much of a sweet tooth) and muttered something about needing to go to the library as soon as possible, there was a crayon emergency in the children's section he had to deal with. James hoped that was just a cover to be alone; a hungover and sex-deprived Chris wouldn't have mixed with children very well.

Not much happened on that Wednesday, either.

So by that fourth Wednesday, James was beginning to worry it would soon go back to just being another day of the week. He wasn't just going to miss the mindless sex (which he was going to miss a LOT, don't get him wrong), he would miss having a _thing_ with Chris. Wednesdays were for them, and only them. Some couples had movie nights, or went for walks at sunset together. James and Chris had Wednesday. That was special, and he didn't want to lose it.

He found Chris curled up in a chair at the kitchen table, the crumbs on his sweatpants and tee-shirt indicating that the Poptart he was unwrapping wasn't his first of the night. Chris barely glanced over his shoulder at James before biting into the pastry, hugging his knees closer to his chest. James took a seat at the table.

"James," Chris began, before realizing that he was still chewing and that was rude, so he finished his bite before continuing, "I'm really sorry I've ruined the last few Wednesdays."

James smiled gently. "You didn't ruin them. We got to spend time together, didn't we? That's all that matters."

"We can spend time together whenever we want, though," Chris replied. "Well, actually, not really, since I work mornings and you work nights, we really don't have a very big window to… That's not the point!

"I just really wanted to do something special for you, you know? I can't even put into words how important you are to me, and how much I just really _love_ you, so I wanted to find a way to show you. But I fucked it up every time I tried. I couldn't give you what you deserve for being the most_ amazing _boyfriend in the world. You do so much for me, you're so caring and understanding and _perfect_, and you deserve so much more than I'm giving you."

Chris figured he would have said more if James hadn't reached forward and pulled him into a fiery kiss. The distance between their chairs was just wide enough that James had to get to his feet to hold Chris as close as he'd like. He could taste the lingering remnants of the Poptarts Chris had barely managed to finish before their lips were locked. He ran his hands through Chris's soft hair, gently dragging his thumbs across every bit of skin he could, trying his best to wipe the negative thoughts from his boyfriend's mind.

When they broke apart, James stared at Chris with a look that could only be described as _pure desire_. At Chris's confused, slightly turned on look, James asked, "Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?"

Chris raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Seriously?" he asked, his eyes darting down his own body. "I'm wearing sweatpants. That I took out of the hamper because I didn't want to walk to the laundry room." He was pretty sure he'd had icing on the corners of his mouth, too, but James might have kissed that off.

"All the easier to take off," James replied with a smirk, quickly dipping his thumb below the waistband to demonstrate. "But it's just _you_ that's sexy. You don't need to jump through hoops to make me happy. I fell in love with_ you_, didn't I? Not a bed covered in rose petals, or weird-scented candles on every table. Just Chris Thomas, who wears sweatpants from the hamper, and eats a blueberry Poptart immediately after a cinnamon one, even though that sounds kind of gross, but it still tastes good somehow. Everything he does reminds me of how special what we have is." He knelt down in front of Chris's chair so they were nearly at eye level. "And I really love it when he strokes my ego," he said with a sly grin.

"That's not all he could be stroking," Chris retorted almost immediately, his mouth curling into a devious grin while his eyes continued to shine with how touched he was.

James laughed and gently cupped Chris's chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb along his cheek. "See? That was all Chris Thomas, no tricks, and no elaborate plans. He's plenty sexy without trying to be."

Chris smiled and pulled James back in for another kiss. Something about it was different than any kisses they'd shared in the last few weeks, like Chris's paranoia that something was missing had finally left him. Or maybe that something had returned and relit the flames that licked at his insides and made him feel lighter than air.

Whatever it was, he needed it to continue. Preferably for the next twenty-four hours, with a few breaks for food and cuddling.

The two pressed their foreheads together, panting slightly, lips curling into contented smiles. "As much as the idea of kitchen sex turns me on, shouldn't we save that for when we're actually hungry?" Chris breathed.

"Say no more," James purred, and before Chris could react, James had lifted him out of his chair and threw him over his shoulder. He carried him out of the kitchen, down the hall, and barely managed to shut the bedroom door behind him. They certainly had quite a few lost Wednesdays to make up for.


End file.
